


Remember the Time

by WeCanDance



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Character Death, Implied Past Abuse, Love, More comfort than hurt, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 16:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21077564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeCanDance/pseuds/WeCanDance
Summary: “You’re fine, I’m fine, 505’s fine, he’s downstairs, Black Hat’s gone, everything is ok,” she relayed as quickly as possible, so there was nothing for him to panic about. “You were having a dream.”Flug took a moment to take in the information, turning back to the wall that he had been facing, seemingly searching for something in the walls.Then, with a groan, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, moonlit back towards Demencia.“You know I don’t have dreams,” he said flatly.“Nightmares?” She returned.“Memories.”





	Remember the Time

**Author's Note:**

> Send comments!

The frantic mumbling coming from the quivering form beside the lizard girl was, in all likelihood, too soft to have awoken her. Perhaps it was the full moon that had just passed into view of their window, or that she had just become accustomed to waking up in the middle of most nights. 

As it was, she opened her eyes, intent on drawing the curtains closed so she could return to slumber. But, before she could stand, a small and defeated-sounding whimper drove her to look look over at her partner. 

The moonlight cast a dark, feminine shadow over the man, highlighting the bumps on his spine and ribs. That was odd; it looked as though the shirt was only painted on his torso--then the woman realized the plastered-on shirt was wet with sweat. 

Slowly, and ever-so-carefully, she leaned over her partner to see his face, but she couldn’t, because his forearms were blocking her view, his hands grasping the hair on the top of his head. But that was ok. She learned a long time ago to perceive his feelings without seeing his face. 

He was curled tightly away from her and the window, wet, shivering, whimpering. She would not be going back to sleep soon. 

“Honey,” she spoke softly, and stood up from the bed. She leaned forward with caution to touch him on the shoulder, ready to jump backwards in case he lashed out. “Honey,” she repeated “it’s ok.” 

Demencia put some pressure on the shoulder of the man who shared her bed, then rubbed circles with her thumb. “Wake up,” a little louder, and with a little shake of the shoulder. 

His breathing changed, and he pulled his arms down to reveal his open, wet eyes. He turned to look at her, his exposed face the same, but not the same, as the one she had finally seen only a few short years ago. 

“You’re fine, I’m fine, 505’s fine, he’s downstairs, Black Hat’s gone, everything is ok,” she relayed as quickly as possible, so there was nothing for him to panic about. “You were having a dream.”

Flug took a moment to take in the information, turning back to the wall that he had been facing, seemingly searching for something in the walls. 

Then, with a groan, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, moonlit back towards Demencia. 

“You know I don’t have dreams,” he said flatly. 

“Nightmares?” She returned.

“Memories.”

Demencia walked on her knees toward him on the bed, but then he stood up and walked around it to the window. His arms were crossed in front of him, and his shivering grew stronger. She got up to stand beside him, and they made a pair of twin silhouettes in the blue night. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she favored, and ran a hand gently along his spine. She briefly considered fetching the comforter, but was too invested in whatever he was about to say to interrupt the moment. 

After a minute, he said he didn’t know. He asked if 505 was ok, and she said yes, even though she had already told him. He asked if he had been screaming, and she said no.

After a long few minutes looking on the town, Flug started. “Demencia, I want to know…”

She looked at him welcomingly. 

“I care about you so much,” he continued. “Do you--did you--I don’t want to bring it up but--I want to apologize if--I never wanted to hurt you.” 

“What are you talking about?”

Flug started wringing his hands together and shrugged her hand off his back. “I know you loved him.”

Demencia was a little annoyed--was he jealous? “That doesn’t matter now.”

“No, I mean..when he...when I...when _ it happened,” _ he continued, noncommittally, as though Black Hat himself could somehow hear them. “I want you to know I _ did _ know that it would hurt you, but, but! But I didn’t do it _ to _ hurt you. I don’t blame you if you miss Black Hat. And...I hope you don’t hate me for...what happened to him. Maybe I could have found a way out without doing something so drastic but--”

“I get it,” she interrupted. “I saw you the week it happened. You were a mess, you were slumping over all the time, passing out even, you were even skinnier than you are now. I had ruined two of your projects, you were furious, I know you were not in the best state of mind to make decisions.” 

“Ok,” he said, and relaxed a little. “Did you...think it was the wrong decision? I think you wanted to kill me.”

Demencia gazed over the rooftops out the window and put a hand on her chin. “I don’t know. I was just really shocked. Yes, I was hurt, I did love him. And I wanted to kill whoever was responsible, but when I found out it was you, I was just confused. Remember how I barged into your room and demanded answers?”

Flug nodded.

“But then I stopped when I saw how messed up you were. You had a splint on your arm, you could barely stand up, I mean, you were just terrified. I was still mad but, now I understand. I hadn’t even seen what he had done to the rest of your body at that time, because you were still wearing the mask and everything. I wish everything could be perfect and we could be a tight, powerful family, yes, including with Black Hat, and maybe we could have. But if I were in your keds, I would have done the same thing.” 

Flug swallowed and nodded. “I’m still sorry for how it hurt you. It wasn’t your fault and you don’t deserve to have to mourn.” 

“...thanks, Babe. I do miss him sometimes. But, I’m sorry too. You didn’t deserve some of the things I did to you...I was young and stupid. I mean, it was fun, I don’t regret all the pranks and torments! But, I realize now that I went too far sometimes, and if I had known what else you were going though...well, I hope to make it up to you now.”

“And hey,” Dementia continued, smiling, trying to encourage the scientist to do the same. “Look at where we are now! We have each other, we have the company, we have everything we could want.”

Flug did not smile. His frown deepened, and he wiped a tear away. 

“That’s what hurts the most,” he admitted, voice cracking.

_ Nothing makes this guy happy, _ Demencia thought. “How come?”

“I have everything I could ever want, and more. I’m inventing successful and safe and in love. But I still have _ memories, _ they won’t leave me alone. I’m still _ scared _ he’ll come back, or that I can never recover from that time. Hell, it’s been two _ years _ ! If I’m not happy _ now, _I’ll never be.”

As Flug grunted and turned aside, Dementia sidled up closer to him. “I think you _ are _ happy.” 

Flug scoffed. 

“I mean it. You might not be happy at this exact moment, and I’m sure you feel these bad things and bad memories more than your fair share. And you know, it’s ok to be sad about these things sometimes. But it gets less bad less often all the time. Tell me, were you sad when you recieved the Atrenan Award for that sun thing you invented?” 

Flug shook his head sheepishly. 

“Do you remember how you felt when 505 said his first full sentence?”

Flug couldn’t help but beam with a closed-mouth smile, standing up straight. 

“And do you remember when we fought that jerk over by the lake, and when you were taunting him you tripped and fell in my arms?”

Flug laughed softly at the memory. 

“Remember when we painted your flying machine in neon green, and we spilled the paint everywhere, and you accidentally said you loved me? And you grabbed your mouth, getting paint all over your bag, like you had said something wrong. But then do you remember what I did?”

“Of course...you held me close and said it back...and we kissed, and I didn’t even care that we were getting paint all over our clothes and faces. And I took off the bag all the way and threw it on the floor, and I never wore it again.” 

Flug reached around her and held her close as the moon moved across the sky. He was still shivering, but probably just because it was cold. “Thank you, Dem.”

The woman girl turned her head and kissed his cheek. Then she reached for the chord and drew the curtains closed, as she had originally intended when she got up, encasing the couple in near-complete darkness. They returned to the warmth of the bed and nestled in. 

“I can never take your bad memories away,” Demencia concluded. “But we’re making new, better ones every day.”


End file.
